Sterben Für Dich
by Iuius
Summary: Finally allowed to attend the very first battle of his life, young Germany is in for an experience not at all matching the glorious picture of war he's had in mind.   /Historical fic, de-anon from the kink meme.
1. Of Blindness

['sterben für dich' = 'to die/dying for you']

_First fanfic I ever completed/published, written for the kink meme. Thought it was a good point to get started on here as well._  
_Admittedly, it ended up a tad bit longer than intended, but it was _a lot _of fun. Plus I can now make my first story a multi-chapter one!_

**Disclaimer: **Be glad I don't own Hetalia, 'cause otherwise it would be historically accurate and nerdy enough to make you want to put on horn-rims and bow ties.

_Opinions mentioned in this are obviously not mine, and solely serve the purpose of making this realistic. :) Translations and a bunch o' historical notes at the bottom._

_Hope you like!_

* * *

**1. Of Blindness**

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* * *

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Nervous feet shuffled across the ground as the boy made his way over to the massive wooden desk placed at the far end of the room. The walls looked shabby, the carpet on the floor had been crumpled by numerous boots having stomped over it throughout the day, but still it was all too apparent the room had been the office of a fairly wealthy man sometime back. The shelves on the right, laden with expensive looking books bound in leather, were only one of the indicators of the past.

Now, however, signs of the former occupiers of the dwelling had diminished, as the people, whoever they might have been, had betaken themselves to flight.

Ludwig's steps created a soft pattern of tapping as he went, slowly toward the other person occupying the abode. The white-haired man sat at the desk, watching him with a tinge of derision clouding his red eyes.

_"Bruder"_ Ludwig said, his voice a hushed tone, almost a whisper. He climbed the stool at the opposite side of the table, so as to face the other. For a while that seemed to stretch out into forever, Prussia did not care to give a response. Instead, he flattened the numerous maps strewn out across the tabletop, picked up a quill, about to add a note somewhere on one of them, until laying it down again. Finally, he turned to look at Ludwig.

_"Hallo, kleines Kaiserreich."_

For some odd reason, Ludwig felt pride, if not a bit of fear bubbling up in his guts at the untimely nickname. His brother deemed him something he wasn't, yet, but he knew that he, Ludwig, would try. Try to make the elder proud, try to become more than he was now, a personification without a meaning, an empty shell. Simply _Ludwig_ instead of _Germany_, even though the realization of being a nation had long since taken a hold of him.

Which brought him to the purpose of why he had come to see his brother in first place.

Ludwig wasn't an antsy boy by any means, yet he could not help the odd sentiment of nervousness creeping up on him when talking to authority, even if they were only human. That, or the man, the _nation_, that had grown to be his guardian over the few decades his memory reached into the past. His _brother_, as he liked to believe. Somehow, his fingers found their way to the edge of the table, gripping it anxiously, while Ludwig braced himself to ask his brother the question he had long since wanted to ask and-

Prussia stood up, rounded the table and took position right next to where Ludwig sat, pulling one map closer to them by the hem of it.

"See this?"

Ludwig nodded at his brother's pointing at one of the small dots signifying a city. _Spichern._

"_Ja_, it was where we won a month ago." _And where I was left behind while you fought_, was what he wanted to add, but the discipline he had been so deliberately inculcated thwarted the remark.

Instead, he muttered, "Weißenburg was next. Then Wörth. And now we are here." Ludwig's index finger found the word _'Metz'_, written in neat print a mere inch away from the French border, a thick stroke in black ink, barely putting across its significance.

Prussia gave an approving nod, brushing silvery strands of hair out of his vision. Ludwig knew some greatly despised his brother's looks, the way etiquette seemingly went uncared for when it came to him – Prussia didn't spare it even a mere thought, though, never did, simply went on with his sluggish appearance of messy hair and no beard, not even the tiniest moustache. His attitude all but made up for it.

Ludwig envied him that confidence.

"I see you really care for what we are doing here. Our _purpose_. _Your_ purpose." Prussia began to walk around the room, made his way over to the shelf and took out one of the books to weigh it in his grasp.

He took in the title with attentive red eyes, opened the book and turned one or two of the pages, asking, "Say, _Kleiner_, do you know French?"

Ludwig shook his head vehemently. "All I know is what _you_ taught me. And there wasn't any French among that." The hint of irony coating his words had slipped out unintentionally, and Ludwig bit down sharply on his bottom lip, inwardly cursing himself. He knew that if there was one thing Prussia couldn't stand, it was critique, or quips, however subtle, directed at him.

But Prussia _laughed_. It was an unsettling bark of a laugh, that much was true, and still, Ludwig's mouth broadened into a relieved smile of sorts.

"And I wouldn't want you to, _Luddie_. Shame on _me_ for knowing it." Almost derogatorily, he threw the book back onto its shelf. For a second, something other than anger flashed through his eyes, and hadn't Ludwig been sure of the sheer impossibility of it, he could have sworn it was regret.

Prussia huffed, as if to get rid of unwanted thoughts and emotions, and returned to his chair at the desk.

"And tomorrow…where will we be tomorrow? Where are the _Frogs_ now?"

His gaze found Ludwig's, and the younger automatically found his attention directed at the maps in front of him again. Some were messily penciled whereas others had been all too carefully constructed, showing the smallest of details. It was on one of the latter that Ludwig eventually made out the dot labeled _'Sedan'_, a little further northward. He pointed at a spot directly beneath it.

_"Hier."_

"Exactly." Prussia grinned smugly as he leaned back, folding his hands behind his head.

"And tomorrow, _Kaiserreich_, we are going to win."

Ludwig's sudden burst of excitement at his brother's statement mingled with the still remaining question of _'What do you mean by_ we_?'_

"We've got it all planned out" Prussia proceeded, misreading his brother's troubled expression, "So fear not," – a sneer- "everything will go just as planned. The French are but a weak pile of cowards."

And with that, he buttoned up his blue – _Prussian_ blue – coat and got up once more, ruffling Ludwig's hair and advancing towards the door that hung askew in its angles. Ludwig's eyes widened as he realized he had probably missed his chance once again, and tomorrow would be yet another day of fearsome waiting and distant twinges indicating his soldiers' deaths, another battle that, to him, meant _doing nothing_–

"_Preußen_, wait!"

The elder stopped dead in his tracks upon hearing himself called by his nation name, something that Ludwig had not done in a long while – it was always _Gilbert_, or _Bruder_, but never _Preußen_.

"Ludwig?"

"I wanted to ask you something."

The blond took a deep breath, and another. "I- I want to come with you tomorrow. I want to fight. I mean, I have – I have – you've trained me enough, I know how to-"

Then, Prussia chuckled, and this time, it did not inflate to that uncanny laugh from earlier, but actually stayed what it was.

"I thought I made that clear already. I said," here, he left a meaningful gap in between his words, possibly to tantalize Ludwig simply for the fun of seeing his agog expression, "_we_ will win tomorrow."

And with that, Prussia sent him another of those smug grins of his, mixed with a hidden sentiment of fondness tugging at his features, before opening the door and finally stepping across the threshold, leaving Ludwig alone, with a frantically beating heart and anticipation already washing over him in waves.

* * *

Ludwig would have preferred the rest of the day to pass in a blur, but he was soon to realize things did not work in his favor. The moment he emerged from the battered house, he was greeted with the sight of men in muddy blue military uniforms marching through the streets of the small village, some in better moods than others, whose postures had taken on a certain hint of a bored or irritated slouch. Some soldiers, he knew, were tired of besieging the city of Metz, the single cottages they had occupied no longer providing them with the alternation in daily routine they craved– others thought it a matter of time, and only that. The French would give in, sooner or later.

He wondered whether they knew their victory wasn't stable yet, what with the hostile troops approaching the area. He was aware of how there was merely a slim chance of their enemies winning left, and he truly would have liked to share that optimism his brother always seemed to draw out of nowhere, but the anxious nagging of fear wouldn't leave.

This was his future being decided here, and he wanted to – no, he _would_ take part in settling the outcome of it all.

Walking alongside the dusty pavement, Ludwig attracted the gazes of one passerby or another, by the way he looked like a mere kid, not quite an adolescent yet, dressed in fine clothes and acting as though he belonged here, something most men within the military did not seem able to place.

He had learned to shrug it off over the weeks, but it still unsettled him more than he liked to admit. And if there was one wish that was forming more and more clearly at the back of his mind, it was that he could not wait to grow up, to become _strong_, to finally fit in, in this world Prussia felt so at home in.

Right now, however, he had to deal with all the situations his outward appearance got him into, which also meant accepting the way the woman that had spotted him from the other side of the street walked over and pulled him in for a hug, like the little boy he wasn't.

The little boy he wasn't compared to a _human_, but alas, the woman was not.

"There you are, Ludwig!"

Bavaria had the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen, and definitely the toothiest grin. And the biggest soft spot for treating him like her son.

Said quirk had him seated in a large kitchen only just half an hour later. Bavaria had made the house it belonged to her home of sorts the moment it had fallen into German hands, and was now busily preparing his dinner, as she always seemed to feel the need to do, every single day since they had arrived here. Ludwig wouldn't lie, sometimes he would have preferred to spend the evenings with Prussia, time filled with endless discussions on battle tactics, but mostly, Bavaria's unofficial arrangement felt like a temporary relief to him.

The large plate of potatoes and sauerkraut set down in front of him five minutes later only steadied that particular opinion. Bavaria smiled at him, and Ludwig suddenly noticed the way some of her dark blond hair had come loose from its braids, how her chipper mood appeared to be more forced than normally.

She sat down next to him, but instead of her usual behavior, namely fussing over him while he ate, she merely leaned back and let out an exasperated groan.

"What did he tell you this time?"

_'He'_ referred to Prussia – it always did.

"…he told me about tomorrow" Ludwig answered through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, which muffled his words to a level of ridiculousness.

Bavaria laughed, the sound of it seeming partly faked, "What else?"

Ludwig swallowed before answering, "That we are going to win?"

Another groan. "I expected as much. Ludwig…?" "Mhhh…" "Did he also tell you to come with him?"

He reckoned a simple, pointed look was enough to answer the question.

With a sudden expression of uneasiness and irritation wrenching her features, Bavaria yanked on her braids and slumped down onto the rough table, elbows first. Ludwig briefly wondered whether she now had arms full of splinters or not.

"Ludwig, I don't like it. I don't like- Look at you! You're a boy! There are men dying out there, _my_ men are dying out there, and they did never…they don't want to…"

She seemed at a loss for words, sunken down as she was. Sympathy for her was still a difficult thing to conjure up, especially now that Ludwig had been confirmed in his suspicions of this not truly being about him, but herself, her _Bavarians_.

Still…

"_Es tut mir Leid._ But I need to…I want to do this." He strained to give his voice a layer of absolute sureness, avoiding all advances of Bavaria's distress acquiring a grip on him as well.

The woman nodded as well as possible with her head still lying on the table top, one hand fisting slightly –

"You're a lot like him, you know that."

It wasn't a question, and neither were there hints of anger or admiration weaved into her statement. Ludwig smiled nonetheless. Even though it had never been a compliment in first place - he still wanted to regard it as such. "I guess so."

The answer received was a long, tired sigh, followed by a mask of fatigue, and eventually a defeated smile.

Bavaria finally straightened up again, flattened her skirts with a practiced hand and collected Ludwig's plate with the other. The dishes were carelessly thrown into the sink – anything here was borrowed, as most put it, so chores such as cleaning went uncared for.

For a moment, he watched her profile, sharp against the evening light streaming in through the window behind her. Her plump lips had settled in a sharp line, eyelids closed halfway, creating an overall expression of resignation on her freckled face.

"Go to bed, Ludwig. Tomorrow will be a long day." She did not look at him, her sudden acceptance not seeming entirely honest.

Ludwig was sure he would not be able to sleep, anyway, but when Bavaria opened the door to the hallway the gesture practically screamed for him to leave and try, an unmistakable beacon for her wanting him out of sight, for a while. What happened instead, however, was someone else entering the house, the sound of long, confident strides reverberating in the hallway. The man's presence immediately brought a smile to Ludwig's face and a frown to Bavaria's.

"Would you stop barging into my house like some-"

Prussia's eyes glistened with amusement as he shrugged off his coat and threw it over the kitchen bench, sending Ludwig a wink before turning to face his sister.

"_Your_ house? Tell this the poor schmuck it belonged to before you decided to set up your little…_care station_ here." The last part of the sentence was added after Prussia had thrown a sententious look over to the oven and sink. "By the way, still got some of that?" He gestured to one of the pots.

"_Nein_, it was my soldiers' food. _You're_ not getting any."

Prussia merely shrugged. "Too bad" he said, putting an emphasis on the careless ring to it, before slumping down next to Ludwig and putting an arm around his shoulders. Ludwig looked from Prussia to Bavaria and back, noticed his brother's triumphant smirk as well as his sister's annoyed pout.

"I just talked to General von Moltke-" – Bavaria rolled her eyes – "and he is looking forward to you coming with us tomorrow. _'Can't wait too long to show the youth what really matters.'_", Prussia added in a strikingly exact imitation of the General's voice. He grinned at Ludwig, patted his head and maybe, just maybe, put on a bit too much of a show on how they were the best of brothers, or rather, on just how well he was doing with his upbringing. Ludwig could not deny how he was getting more and more confused by his brother's antics, the unexpected shows of affection to an extent he was not used to in the least.

Bavaria, however, seemed very well able to make sense of it, if the look of hatred she threw Prussia was anything to go by.

"Do you have _any_ idea how you're influencing him?"

"Oh, as if you're not." Prussia got up from where he sat and took a step toward Bavaria, tension building up between them in a way that was almost tangible.

"At least _I_ wasn't the one to start this madness!"

Ludwig realized this wasn't about him any longer, not directly. Attentively, he watched the two glare daggers at each other, Bavaria placing her hands on her hips and Prussia's snarl deepening, eyebrows knitting together.

"Oh, but I wasn't the one to willingly offer becoming Francis' little whore even when-"

"Take that back."

And with that, she spurted forwards, resulting in her and Prussia toppling to the ground, where she pinned his wrists to the tiles, furious expression never leaving her face.

"But there is no denying it, _nicht wahr_? Your queer of a king knew from the very beginning that there was no future for your little…_alliance_, and yet…" Prussia licked his lips, trademark smirk dominating his mimic even now. For the fragment of a second, Bavaria looked flabbergasted, before finally regaining composure and hissing, _"Gottverdammter Saupreiß, du elendes-"_

"Oh _Bayern_," Prussia interrupted her in a provoking purr, "I love it when you're feisty. Just wait, you'll be a wonderful part of the _Reich_."

This was obviously the point where he had originally planned to push her off, but instead, she got to her feet even before he could, and, in one swift, practiced movement, kicked him in the crotch.

Prussia let out a pained shriek that quickly diminished into a garbled hiss, thanks to year-long practice of self-control. Ludwig could not remember to have ever seen a look quite as full of animosity on his face before, and shrank back into the cushions of his chair, quite intensely imagining his brother's pain.

"That's it. I'm leaving." Bavaria straightened up, head held high as proudly as possible, given the tears of anger leaking at the corners of her eyes. "Oh wait, this is _my_ house. _You're_ leaving!" Ludwig stared at her with wide, shocked eyes. Then, he glanced at Prussia, who was still lying on the ground, but now slowly attempted to get up by using the table for support.

"Come on, Ludwig. You heard her." Prussia donned his coat again, struggling to keep up his façade of bored casualness, even though Ludwig did not miss the way the corners of his mouth still twitched, due to the merely gradually fading pain he must be experiencing.

Ludwig simply nodded, carefully sliding off the chair.

"Oh, _you_ don't have to." Bavaria's much too sweet smile hit him unprepared, and it took him a long moment to finally avert his eyes. Her face fell. "Alright then."

He did not know whether that truly meant she accepted his decision, but before he could ponder on the subject further, Prussia had all but hauled him through the door, slamming it shut behind them.

"I knew I could rely on you, _Kleiner_."

* * *

The hint of a satisfied smile wouldn't leave Prussia's face as they made their way back to their dwelling. Ludwig eyed him suspiciously, because how could they now be certain of the result of the upcoming battle, without the Bavarian troops for support? How could his brother's mood be so _carefree_?

His worries were confirmed when somewhere in the distance, gunfire went off. Yet another response to a French attempt at gaining ground , and he had no way of knowing which side would win – but he knew that there was no sense in asking for Prussia's thoughts on the topic; he would always claim that it had to be their own soldiers, period.

Ludwig did decide to state something else, though, a matter that had outright refused to leave him alone ever since they had left Bavaria's house.

"Gilbert?"

"_Ja?_"

"I think what you did was really stupid."

Ludwig avoided his brother's gaze as they walked on, but still sensed the slight tensing of the man next to him, before an amused chuckle reached his ears. This time, it did turn into a full-blown laugh, and before he knew it, a deep blush had crept onto his face out of embarrassment.

"_Was?_"

"You think that just because _she_ freaked her men won't fight tomorrow?"

"…Yes?"

"Oh Ludwig."

An explanation was likely to follow, Ludwig assumed. And so he waited. _And waited._ But when they had almost reached their destination, and Prussia had yet to answer, he realized that if he wanted to find out more, he probably had to _ask_. Sometimes his brother had such difficulties with sharing information if there was no further inquiring.

"What do you mean?"

Prussia sighed, about to say something, when just as they had arrived in front of 'their' house, a group of soldiers walked by, rifles swung over their shoulders. They greeted Prussia as one of their own, as though it was the most self-evident gesture in the world. A little taken aback, Ludwig realized that they had to be entirely unaware of his –_their_– true nature. Prussia grinned back and raised his hand curtly – a subtle, covert kick in the shin told Ludwig to do the same. He did his best to obey and force a smile onto his face despite his inner turmoil, but the notion of how manners were so irritating to handle when you weren't in the mood for it struck him all the same.

A few moments later, he was ushered inside through the only sparsely damaged door by his brother. Once in the house, Prussia kicked off his boots and walked over to what had once been some sort of parlor, without as much as waiting for Ludwig.

Said one hurried behind, all but yelling, "Hey, you didn't answer my question!"

His brother suddenly gripped the doorframe he was standing in, apparently not having expected Ludwig to be quite as obstinate on the matter. But his moment of trepidation went as quickly as it had come, and he relaxed once more.

"You can't always decide, Ludwig."

"What?"

"As daft as it sounds, we're just _nations_. Our opinions weigh _nothing_, with the wrong leader. Ah, and most of the time, friendships among ourselves don't, either." Prussia had crouched a bit, so as to be at eye level with Ludwig.

Extracting the sense from his brother's words took the younger some effort, still unused to the basic concept of his being as he was, but as he did, his eyes dilated. "You mean there's a difference between what we want and what our people wish for?"

"Yes, well…something like that. At times there is." Prussia scratched the back of his head, momentarily looking upset.

"I have something for you" he quickly said, almost as if to help himself to get over the burst of emotion.

Ludwig tried to guess what it could be, both what Prussia was trying to keep from him and what it was he was about to be given, as the other practically skipped over to the footlocker he had placed next to his bedstead. It was an old, wooden box he had probably kept from a time Ludwig had no memory of. Unoiled hinges creaked as it was opened.

The pile of clothes Prussia eventually fetched from it after some rummaging was unexpected, though - almost a minute passed before Ludwig understood the meaning of it all. It was a uniform. _His_ uniform.

Face shining with excitement, he took it from Prussia, who grinned.

Ludwig brushed one hand over the rough fabric with an expression full of awe and solemnity. It was almost comical. Ever since the day Prussia had first given him a weapon to hold, he had, in a way, imagined what it would feel like to go to battle. The sheer inebriation of atmosphere, merged with an unyielding sensation of anxiousness buried deep within, adding to the experience of it all – sure, he had heard of it, and yet he could not quite believe it was about to become reality at last.

"I hope it fits. There's no way of knowing if you don't stop staring and try it on, though."

Ludwig blushed as he was ripped from his moment of contemplation, but a few minutes later he stood there, wearing a military uniform of his own for the very first time in his – going by a nation's standards – short life. Of course it fit - Prussia rarely ever made mistakes when it came to such things.

Before he knew it, pride flooded Ludwig's senses, as he ran his hands over the double row of silver buttons and over the dark blue trousers. He had to look quite dashing, he guessed, with an untypical huge, nearly childish grin plastered to his face.

For once, Prussia didn't smirk, or sneer. He simply _smiled_.

"I think you look older." It was obvious that he knew exactly what Ludwig wanted to hear, and the fact that it went hand in hand with the truth was quite convenient.

And then there was something else, something akin to a soft remembrance eliciting the sudden glimmer in the Prussian's eyes as he took in the sight of the young blond boy, standing there proudly and ready to go to war, to stand up for his beliefs. Blue eyes shone with a newfound focus, observing an enemy somewhere far off, lining the horizon - everything about Ludwig suddenly radiated an uncommon sense of optimism, and it was so unlike his usual attitude, but rather-

"You remind me of someone" was all Prussia offered in place of an explanation, not without pride, and Ludwig knew immediately it would be left at that this time.  
For some odd reason, he found himself accepting it as a compliment without further ado.

"I still can't believe it" he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.

Prussia laughed, "You'll have to, eventually."

* * *

The cue needed to snap them out of their moment had come in the form of the sun being in the midst of withdrawing completely, resulting in the room darkening by the minute.

The thoughts of what the following day had in store for him did not fade, even as Ludwig forcefully tried to let himself be overpowered by sleep. Prussia had once again gone off to one last conference for the day, apparently immune to fatigue. Ludwig had played with the thought of asking to accompany him, but eventually, he had decided against it - sleep was probably the best option for him at the moment, as loath as he was to admit.

He glanced at his new uniform, lying next to his cot, neatly folded.

Still, or already, his mind was filled with images of himself and Prussia on a battlefield, then a victory celebration.  
Without intention, the sleep he needed was kept at bay, and Ludwig tossed and turned in bed for another hour or more, until finally, _finally_, his thoughts faded to black and he was able to get some rest.

* * *

**TBC**

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_I know Bavaria is a dude in canon, but I know nothing about him and always thought of Bavaria as a girl, so there. :D _

_**Translations:**_

_Kaiserreich – _empire (_kleines Kaiserreich_ = little empire)

_Es tut mir Leid._ – I'm sorry.

_Bayern _- Bavaria

_Nicht wahr?_ – Isn't that true?

_gottverdammter Saupreiß (_Bavarian_)_ – goddamn Prussian (even though I have _no_ idea whether it was ever used that way)

_Kleiner _– little one

_**Historical Background:**_

_The Battle of Sedan was part of the Franco-Prussian War (1870/71), and the battle that eventually enabled the defeat of the French and the foundation of Germany (_Deutsches Kaiserreich_ back then), meaning the union that came into existence from the large number of German duchies and the like. The war was begun by France, but had originally been provoked by Bismarck's Ems dispatch._

_These scenes take place during the Siege of Metz, during which the Prussian Third Army had already started to march towards the French approaching the city to end the siege - apparently, Napoleon III's troops were on their way to Metz, but terribly exhausted._

_Germany is referred to simply as 'Ludwig', because, well, he wasn't really Germany at that time. In my headcanon, he came into existence/was reincarnated/woke up again/whatever (whether or not you support the Germany-is-HRE-theory doesn't matter here) around the time the idea of a united Germany truly began to spread, sometime in the middle of the 19th century. Of course, Prussia recognized the little guy's purpose and declared himself his guardian – after all, he was the driving force behind the whole there-needs-to-be-one-strong-united-Germany thing (okay, Bismarck was, but oh well)._

_Also, the rivalry between Prussia and Bavaria truly did play a rather important role regarding this particular war and the events directly before it - that's why I'm making such a big point of it here._

_Basically, it was that Bavaria had been forced to establish alliances with the North German Confederation after the Fraternal War (1866; Prussia vs. Austria), but Ludwig/Louis II (= king of Bavaria, duh), still tried to become Napoleon III's ally just a few years before the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian war, to prevent the idea of a unified Germany from becoming reality (because in his opinion, the Bavarians would lose their national identity when entering such a union…and he would lose his power, just as a side note). In the end, however, they were forced to go to war alongside Prussia and the other German nations due to the alliances mentioned earlier (as though that had not been predictable), and at some point, the overall excitement about kicking some French ass dispread among Bavarians as well._

_Ludwig II was now forced to participate in the impending war even by his own citizens - his thoughts: _'then let's at least be best at it'.

_What I'm saying is that Prussia and Bavaria practically were like the fucked-up not-quite-couple competing for their child's affection (aka supremacy among the states of the future nation of Germany), Prussia with all means of militarism and Bavaria in a more subtle, 'let me take over responsibility' kind of way. __Guess who won._


	2. Of Revelation

**2. Of Revelation**

* * *

The next day began early, and for once Ludwig didn't mind not being woken by sunlight weaving its way through gaps in elaborate curtains. Still, for a moment, he did not remember anything, all but landing face-first on the dusty floor, startled, when Prussia yelled at him to get up. The elder quirked an eyebrow at his brother's groggy falling out of bed, nudging Ludwig in the side once with the tip of his boot.

At last, it was in fact the sight of shiny black boots that brought back Ludwig's memory after he'd lazily turned his head to the side. Looking up he saw immaculately ironed trouser legs, a blue coat with an excessive number of medals pinned to it (the most prominent one being an iron cross) and, eventually, Prussia's smirking face. The older nation casually ran a hand through his fair hair, mildly shaking his head at his ward's antics.

"Honestly, I'm disappointed."

It took Ludwig exactly three seconds to attempt a coherent answer, all the while hastily scrambling to his feet.

"Give me a few more minutes! I'm sorry!"

Prussia jokingly waved a hand at him, quizzically remarking, "I was kidding, Lud. You still have another hour."

And with that, he left the room, chuckling to himself. Ludwig stared after him, before finally reaching for his uniform and sitting down on his cot. Even if he wasn't quite sure whether what Prussia had told him had actually been the truth, he did not see a way left for himself to go back to sleep _now_.

Having begun to change clothes, he momentarily stepped over to the narrow window, which was positioned high enough to make it possible to call it a loop-hole, and stood on tiptoe to get a better view of what might be happening outside. He reached for the marmoreal windowsill and pulled himself upwards, just a little higher-

Just as expected. He knew that none of the parts of the army stationed in their vicinity were supposed to participate in a battle other than those regarding the siege today, which explained why the narrow street in front of his window lay almost abandoned. Still, how he and Prussia would manage to arrive at the actual battlefield in time remained a mystery to him, one he merely dismissed for the moment, though.

Eventually, he let go of the windowsill and lowered himself to the ground again, exchanging the linen trousers he had slept in for his uniform ones. At the very last, he reached for his boots, which went up almost all the way to his knees.

He pulled them on and stretched his toes probingly before standing up from his bedstead, starting to gather up his things. There was not much he had brought with him – a small book on poetry, a set of spare clothes, a small notebook, a quill. He knew Prussia kept diaries, so he had decided to try it himself – what had come out of it, however, was not worth mentioning. It was not that Ludwig was a bad writer, just that whenever he began to write, try to come to terms with his feelings and the happenings around him, it was like walking through thick fog, and at some point, the words would stop flowing.

Prussia said it was because he was young, had yet to learn how to separate his own emotions from his people's. Now that he thought about, it applied perfectly to what his guardian had told him the previous day, even though he hadn't been sure what to make of the theory back then.

With a shrug, Ludwig threw the book into his small rucksack, together with everything else. After that, he hesitated for a moment, eventually realizing that there was nothing left for him to do here. He headed for the door, turned around once more to look at what had temporarily been his abode.

Somehow, he felt he wouldn't miss it.

Outside, Ludwig walked down the cracked stairs leading up to the door and made his way through the front garden.

He indecisively stood next to a broken fence post and wondered where Prussia could be, looking up and down the street, searching for the similar figure he knew to linger here somewhere, until he turned abruptly at the sound of hooves on cobblestones, nearing.

Prussia winked at Ludwig from astride a gray horse, making a beeline for him along the edge of the street. He had added a spiked helmet to his uniform, which he now primly straightened with one hand while keeping the reins in the other.

"Oi, I thought I'd told you that you still have time!" he shook his head, an amiable, yet ironic flick of his chin rather than anything, ruffling Ludwig's hair as he rode past. The younger stared behind, irritated and just a tad bit embarrassed at the same time. He almost thought Prussia would just desert him as that, before the other looked over his shoulder and sent him a look that clearly prompted the younger to follow him.

Ludwig had to run to catch up with Prussia, but as he did, simply walking next to him proved to be enough, as Prussia kept his horse at a slow pace.

"Where are we going?"

Prussia let out a clipped laugh, "Well, you'll need a horse yourself, won't you?"

Together, they went to a barn on the outskirts of town, where provisory stables had been set up. After an odyssey of asking around and dealing with confused stable boys, one of them eventually toddled off to carry out their orders, having been faced with Prussia's daunting glare as well as the medals decorating his uniform. Minutes later, Ludwig sat astride a dun horse, smiling proudly despite himself. Even though horseback riding had, of course, been part of his training, he had never cared about the animals themselves much, going far enough as to make dealing with them a matter of luck for him - but this one had not caused him any embarrassment yet, which he was thankful for.

"_Gott_, you look so stunning" Prussia commented with a wink, all traces of sarcasm sneaking into the comment unnoticed by the younger. Ludwig beamed.

"But there is something missing, I do believe…"

Prussia turned in his saddle to rummage through the bag he had attached to it, until grinning triumphantly and riding up to his brother. Before the younger knew it, a spiked helmet, just like Prussia's, had been dropped on his head. He peaked up from underneath it, eyes round as saucers.

Red eyes glinted, and Prussia snickered, "Now, _that's_ perfect!"

* * *

Naturally, Ludwig had contemplated it - but he was caught by surprise all the same when Prussia spurred his horse and made it gallop out of town and into the countryside without a warning. Ludwig hesitated for a moment, but then followed suit, struggling to catch up with his brother. His horse, a good-natured mare, had in fact turned out to be easy enough to handle, but also had a plump trait to it - unlike Prussia's battle-trained gelding, lithely trotting ahead now. To Ludwig, it almost seemed as if his brother was trying to make fun of him, a suspicion he tried to decline.

Eventually, Prussia let himself fall back, and for a few minutes, they rode next to each other, sinking into a deep, pensive silence. The day almost felt too nice, too _normal_ to be one in a row of many that had been claimed by this war, to become the date of a battle, forever to be anchored in people's memories. As the thought jolted through Ludwig, the sudden realization of it felt more intense than it should have, and he almost felt guilty for it, nervously twisting the reins in between his fingers.

Even though Prussia did look contemplative as well, in his case, it was probably for entirely different reasons. Ludwig lowered his gaze.

"I know what you're thinking, _Kaiserreich_."

At that, his head shot up again. "You do?"

"Of course. And I'm going to tell you something – first of all, which day is it today, Ludwig?"

The younger was a bit baffled, not to say confused, but replied smoothly, "The 1st of September, 1870."

"Yes. And what does that tell you?"

Ludwig had learned facts by heart, and while he admitted not understanding every tiny detail regarding their situation of warfare, he had been sure of knowing the basics. What it was Prussia was implying, though, he had no idea.

Still, he thought for a moment, until shrugging, "I don't know…?" He hated the feeling of being clueless, hated feeling Prussia's burning glare scrutinize him for it.

In fact, it only took seconds for red eyes to meet his, and for the older nation to impatiently begin to tap an irregular beat on the calloused leather of the saddle, sighing quietly.

"It means" Prussia started, "That there have been smaller battles raging on for some days now, and-"

This probably was not the sort of answer Ludwig had expected – it appeared as though Prussia had not guessed his thoughts, after all – but still, he decided to intervene.

"So then it means that you have missed out on those, because you stayed with me, near that village?"

He realized immediately that he had just said something entirely stupid, and wondered not for the first time just why there seemed to be so much he had yet to learn. Had he not collected the amount of experience he had when it came to classifying Prussia's expressions, the amused flicker momentarily lightening the elder's eyes would probably have been lost on him. As it was, though, he did perceive it, and the heat rising to his face proved to be impossible to fight back.

"I'll give you that one – you never cease to amuse me, _Kleiner_. Say, you didn't even notice…?"

"Notice what?" Ludwig hadn't been aware of being able to feel even more left out on something _elemental_. Prussia cackled, making a lightly exaggerated gesture with his right arm, beckoning Ludwig to observe their vicinity. And that was when the younger saw it, now finally letting his gaze stray from the path they were following.

Their surroundings _flew by_. Not just in the way grass and flowers seemed to pass in a blur when moving at a speed much faster than walking pace, but in a way that made one think distances actually melted into each other, or were left out wholly. And that, Ludwig realized, was probably exactly what was happening.

His shocked expression betrayed him, even before he had the chance to mutter a weak, "How…?" He was sure Prussia must've missed it. Even as he was doing his best to stay upright on his horse, there was a sudden dizziness sneaking up on him, one that could not be quelled – the phenomenon had probably already set in shortly after they'd left town, but now that Ludwig actually knew of it, it made his head spin.

Prussia responded, in a voice full of exuberance and ostentation, loud enough to be heard despite the rustle of the wind and the rattle of hooves, "We're nations, that's why!"

"But-"

"Do you actually believe in the sentimental rubbish I spilled yesterday? Look at this, _Kaiserreich_, it's amazing!"

"_Ja…_" And Ludwig stared, stared and wonder how in the world the horses stayed unaffected by this, trotted on as if there was nothing, despite – _this_, whatever it was, a nation's astonishing ability of defying the laws of nature, morphing long passages into shortcuts.

Another implication of what Prussia had said, or at the very least insinuated, suddenly struck him: _He had not missed a single fight._ Much more likely, he had constantly rode, or even _run_ from one battlefield to another, in a matter of minutes, joining their soldiers whenever he felt like it.

And in the evenings, he had returned to Ludwig, told him about events the younger had believed him to have simply heard about, sometime during the day, talking to a general, maybe. Everything seemed so clear now.

Ludwig asked himself what facts still remained Prussia had not mentioned so far, and whether there was a system behind all of it, as to at which point knowledge would be revealed to him. It almost felt as though Prussia tried to keep him dependant, _tributary_-

"Can you see it?" the elder suddenly called out, and Ludwig felt his attention torn from his train of thoughts and towards the direction whereto Prussia pointed, squinting to make out more details along the horizon.

He then realized it was the Prussian army – as the blurred colors of the uniforms suggested - or at least part of it. Single figures of soldiers now slowly became discernible, as they approached them, already slowing in pace.

Here they were.

…after what had not even felt like half an hour of being on their way.

Ludwig gulped, and then glanced at Prussia, who didn't even bother looking back at him.

At last, he sensed how _finally_, they withdrew to a humanely pace again, without Ludwig himself even realizing it, all but relying on Prussia. The space still separating them from the mass of people in front of them grew smaller and smaller, until Ludwig could feel curious gazes settle upon the two of them, investigations as to their identities welling up among the soldiers. Prussia stemmed them with a dismissive gesture, confidence written all over his face, back straight.

And then, the sound of gunfire reached their ears. Ludwig tensed, but, throwing a side glance at Prussia, he noted that the other did not even bat an eyelid at the disturbance. The exact opposite, in fact - he _grinned_.

As Prussia urged his horse onwards again, Ludwig could think of no better description of his movements and expression other than _euphoric_. It was hard not to be infected by it, and as he followed his brother, who had begun to direct his horse along the edge of the crowd, he found his own mouth stretch into a reluctant, excited smile.

The rifle swung over Prussia's back swayed up and down with every step the horse took, and Ludwig wondered, as his eyes smoothly followed the motion, whether it would be used today. The thought of it felt thrilling and fearsome at the same time.

They emerged out onto a plain, where the grass lay flat and damp, stemming from the past, rainy days. Mud had been carried across it, so that now, the ground lying before them was an odd mixture of green and brown.

Ludwig wrinkled his nose at it and looked up and around to observe their adjacencies.

His breath hitched when he realized the army was everywhere, had basically encircled the area the French were trying to defend.

Prussia reached over to nudge Ludwig's askew helmet into a straight position again, sneering.

"More than 200,000 men altogether" he said smugly and, having noticed his brother's wan, admiring expression. "Two days ago, at Beaumont, we made this all possible, and now look! Let me tell you this, Ludwig, General von Moltke is a genius…"

Prussia had a habit of alluding to names without further explanation, but this one in particular had been referred to often enough for Ludwig to know of the other's deep admiration for the man.

As if on cue, words from the previous day came to mind.

_Tomorrow, we are going to win._

It seemed quite possible now.

"In general, our secret is that we're not waiting for the whole of the army to summon, but let smaller, agile troops attack right away" Prussia expounded as they rode down the hill, a little astray from the main path the soldiers took, "That, and the fact that we were first to make use of railways."

Ludwig nodded eagerly. "That was four years ago, right? That's why we were able to win against Austria."

"Exactly, colluding with the fact that he's a pansy, and that we had this-"

He drew out his rifle, resting it in his grasp.

"A needle-fired gun", Ludwig said, automatically and without awaiting the question that would have been sure to follow. "But isn't it obsolete now-"

Prussia gave a quick nod, cutting Ludwig's remark right then and there. He threw the weapon over to the other, who struggled to catch it. When he managed to, he immediately clung to it, in fear of letting it fall. Prussia laughed almost manically. "Oh, come on, don't be like that! Show me how it's held properly!"

Ludwig reluctantly attempted to do so, adjusting to the rhythmic sway of his horse's movements while withdrawing his other hand from its hold on the reins. The gun felt heavy and unwieldy to him, and he was certain that even if he tried, he could not, _would_ not be able to handle it the right way in a decisive situation. It might have had to do with the fact that he was a boy, holding a gun made for grown men, but such observations rarely ever occurred to him. As it commenced quivering in his grip, he quickly handed the weapon back to Prussia.

"Good enough - for a beginner", the older said, not without merriment.

With that, he reached back and fetched a slim object wrapped in cloth from his bag.  
Polished, sharp metal came into sight as Prussia unpacked it, and Ludwig realized, along with the thought that no, he should not have been surprised at all, that it was a bayonet.

Prussia expertly fixed it to his rifle, his movements quick and systematic, and never stopped to focus on what he obviously expected to appear right ahead anytime soon, looking up from his task regularly.

And then, the outlines of houses began to loom.

A village.

The sound of distant screams, machine guns - it all merged into a dull mass of despair, rising to the sky just as the smoke caused by numerous fires all over the place did, and Ludwig could only stare.

"_Bazeilles…_" Prussia hissed.

* * *

Ludwig did not hear the word muttered so quietly by his brother, and he did not need to. The story behind it all became unnecessary at the sight of a town burning down to its fundaments, and even though Ludwig tried not to let it on, he was shaken to the core. Even his horse, having remained still until now, through every situation they had encountered, began to fidget, neighing in a way that could have been called _nervous_.

Prussia's expression had taken on a strained tinge as he surveyed the battlefield lying ahead, confined within the walls of houses and bound to the streets.

"They've never fought like that..."

"Are they-"

"Not Prussian. They're Bavaria's. The concept stays the same, though."

Ludwig nodded. _Bavaria's men._ It looked as though her fears had at last become reality.

He tried to prevent himself from thinking as they passed the scene, and clenched his hands around the reins while leaning forward. Unlike Prussia, he had not made up his mind over their current situation – war was an intriguing issue, that much he knew, but the euphoria had not quite set in yet, despite the expected. Had he not always believed to exist for this, hadn't that been what everybody had told him all along?

But now, and it became as self-evident to him as the sun rising each new day, he realized that war had, in fact, two faces. He was almost relieved when Prussia did not lead him right into town, but turned to keep their course through the countryside for a little longer.

Ludwig was so caught up in his musings that the silhouette of a woman sitting in the grass to their left hit him unprepared by all measures, and he wasn't the only one affected by it. Several soldiers turned their heads as they passed her, some even went as far as to attempt to help her to her feet, believing her to be a French civilian.

Her features were illuminated as she turned, adjusted her position so as to sit more comfortably – an action so trivial, in their situation – flattening her skirts. She suddenly seemed very familiar, and it was not only the sheer sight of her, so uncanny and incongruous for the situation.

Then, all of a sudden, it occurred to him. Eyes dilating, he thought, _Bavaria_.

And then, _When did she get here?_

"Gilbert! Gilbert, _look_!"

Prussia brought his horse to a halt, whirling around, gaze fixating on him with a sharpness to it he could not place. "What is it?"

"Over there!"

Bavaria looked up, palms pressed to her reddened face. Bloodshot eyes, brows drawn together in shock and sadness, restraint melting away.

She was crying.

It was a picture of utter, raw mourning, one he had never seen before, in no possible constellation. But Prussia's focus brushed over her huddled form just once, unblinkingly. It elicited a whirl of emotions passing through her eyes, a mixture Ludwig could not define – still, the surprise as to their presence he had expected to see was not comprised. It shook him all the same, and he was tempted to simply approach her, _get her away from here_.

"_Bruder_, we have to help her!"

Prussia glanced at him, shook his head, eventually said, "It was her own choice to come here. She didn't have to." He shouldered his gun, waving him onwards. He could as well have said, _If she's too cowardly to bear the pain, it's not our problem - soldiers dying is only natural._

No matter if Prussia's reaction had resulted from cruelty or something else, something anchored in a nation's being, a wisdom Ludwig still had to obtain, he felt something inside of him break as they simply kept on moving along.

_Don't think._

He could practically feel Bavaria's stare linger on him as he turned away from her, and he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to blend it all out.

"Ludwig, she knows what she's doing. Don't worry."

The fact that Prussia was actually trying to comfort him was unexpected. At times, the different sides to his brother's personality still managed to astonish him. He almost felt thankful.

"Alright…"

"Now come here, Ludwig."

For a moment, it honestly seemed as though Prussia was going to pull him in for a brief hug as their horses stood directly next to each other, but then the atmosphere that had so unexpectedly manifested itself was gone, replaced with the elder's former derisive air. How many battles he had seen, how often he had had to suffer with his people through the imaginary bond they shared, transferring their pain onto him – there was no answer to it, and still Prussia's inurement to it was obvious.

Before either of them had the chance to say anything else, all hell seemed to break lose. The row of soldiers in front of them broke, the men stumbling apart. A figure burst through, a young man, barely above his teens, from the looks of him. He had obviously come from the direction of the town they had just left behind, and his uniform was caked in mud, face flushed in endeavor and eyes wide with both fear and excitement as he looked around frantically, lifting his gun.

When he realized there were several hostile soldiers staring back at him, though, while he was on his own, his mood rapidly switched from triumphal to tremulous. Awareness of the repercussions his rash act was about to trigger quickly set in.

_"Dieu…"_

Ludwig would never forget what happened next.

None of the soldiers even had the chance to move in the time it took Prussia to make his horse leap forwards and spin his gun so as to ram the butt of it into the Frenchman's forehead. The young soldier's knees gave in underneath him as his consciousness evaporated in an instant, with nothing more than a startled yelp, and he tumbled forwards, landing face down in the mud. The rifle he had been carrying was flung from his now slack grasp and slithered over the ground until being picked up by one of the bystanders.

Only seconds later did Ludwig realize his breath had hitched at the scene unfolding right in front of his eyes.

The inkling he got as to what was probably going to happen next was interrupted by the cheers erupting amongst the soldiers, one in particular stepping forwards to enthusiastically pat Prussia on the back.

"Nice one, _Bruderherz_. The real action's going down over there, though!"

Prussia grinned back, whisking his gaze over the other man's battered uniform once but apparently deciding to let the matter rest, "I know, I know. Now if you'd like to finish off the pitiful fellow we have here…go ahead, I still need to show around someone."

At that, the stranger took a step backwards and sent Ludwig a grin, "That 'someone' is obviously you, am I right, Ludwig?"

Startled at how he actually knew who he was, Ludwig only nodded tensely.

"No need to be shy - I'm your brother! We're family! See?"

Ludwig nearly yelped at the revelation. Sturdy figure, broad shoulders, sandy hair and a pair of piercing gray eyes – if at all, he had encountered the man briefly before, without being introduced. His uniform, stained and ripped as it was, was what gave him away in the end. It was definitely not Prussian, but Ludwig did not need long to file it otherwise. Which only left one option.

"Are you – are you _Sachs-_"

"_YES._" Somehow, Prussia had made it to his side within the fragment of a second and clamped his mouth shut before the word had had the chance to rush out entirely. Ludwig's eyes widened as he realized the mistake he'd almost committed.

Saxony quirked an eyebrow, but nodded approvingly nonetheless.

"Clever lad you raised there, Gilbert. I'm impressed."

Prussia only gave him a triumphant look that clearly insinuated as much as, _Told you so._

The other rolled his eyes good-naturedly, saying, "Now get going, you two. Leave the rest here to me."

And thus Ludwig's first encounter with another one of the nations he was to represent as a whole ended quickly, with the uncanny sight of Saxony thrusting his bayonet into the unmoving body on the ground to finish the intruder off for good, without as much as blinking. The soldiers around him showed no sign of emotion, either.

Ludwig swore he felt his insides churn as he saw the trail of blood the action entailed, and he looked away as soon as he had regained enough composure to do so, following Prussia away from the scene, as well as the nation he had just met. He wasn't sure whether he would be able to bear the sight of Saxony's grinning face, clearly concealing an unscrupulous personality, any time soon again.

In the end it was Prussia's relentlessness in introducing him to the matters of war – that, or his lack of tact – that succeeded in freeing him from his moment of repulsion.

"We will soon cross the front line, Ludwig. We're currently trying to keep those villages occupied-" – he gestured vaguely over to where houses were visible in the distance-"-and it'll be our task to be at the scene."

Of course, said task had never been officially declared, but Ludwig suddenly felt useful at the prospect of it. He did not feel entirely at home here yet, sure, but he mostly blamed his uneasiness on the fact of not being used to the sight of open brutality. He would become accustomed to it soon enough, he was sure of it. _He needed to._

At least, it hadn't been Prussia to kill the young soldier.

He hastily wiped the thought from his mind.

_It wouldn't have mattered even _if_ he had been the one to do it. _

Killing was a fragment of war, and he had to accept it. _Had to._

Even though until now, to him war had consisted of fancy uniforms, proud soldiers and cheering crowds, of effortlessly defeated enemies and shiny guns, rapiers and spruce horses and carriages.

And Prussia had always seamlessly fitted into the picture.

"What's with the look, Luddie? Cut it out, I know Saxony's a dumbass, and while he'll never be as great as me, _of course_, he's not _that_ bad once you get to know him better…"

Right. Trust Prussia to always recognize a problem, but never get to the bottom of it.

Ludwig forced himself to smile. "I get that. It's…nice to meet my other, uh, _brothers and sisters._"

"Damn right!" Prussia was back to laughing, even as the noise of fighting around them gradually grew louder, mounted soldiers passing them more than once on their way. It didn't take long for Ludwig to lay eyes on one of the klutzy machine guns their army had brought with it, and immediately pity the soldiers detached to first position it so as to look onto the village and later operate it, responsible should anything go wrong.

It was not hard to make out the French soldiers engaging in fights with those of the opposite side, even though hand-to-hand combat wasn't as often seen anymore. While the German uniforms weren't exactly bland, either, the French ones were still much easier to spot in between the rows of houses.

"Those flashy idiots" Prussia gloated, and Ludwig silently agreed.

They came to a halt a mere 50 meters away from the village they had been approaching, and Ludwig watched the goings-on with a newfound, morbid fascination. He guessed that if neither of them was directly involved, it wasn't quite as bad, not even the unsettling background noise that came with it. The sounds of guns and screams and overall irredeemability easily faded to the back of his perception as Prussia put a hand on his shoulder, preparing to speak up.

"Before we go, I want you to have this." A bit of rummaging followed, and with that, a gun was shoved into his hand – a revolver, no rifle, as Ludwig realized with obvious relief. He wanted to thank Prussia, but then it occurred to him, in all its simplicity, that it was really quite essential that he have a weapon when going to battle.

His brother went over to explaining the mechanism to him, leaning over to guide his hands as they practiced the succession in which he had to perform the different settings, pulling back cranks and putting the piston into place, until eventually, Prussia said,

"There you go. One shot, unless you want to go through with all of this again when running the risk of being shot yourself."

Ludwig glanced at him, then back at his new weapon, solemnly observing, "So, only use it in profound jeopardy, am I right?"

"_Ja_, that's what I said."

"Let's go." Ludwig did not know where he took that sudden confidence from, but he certainly did not decline it.

Prussia took over the lead again, naturally, as they neared the first houses. Most window panes, had there ever been some, lay in shards, and front doors had been kicked in, laying open the dwellings for soldiers to storm in and do all the damage they liked. Ludwig even saw one dragging out the lifeless body of a woman, her dress crumpled and tattered, and quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to even ponder on the implications of it.

Looking at Prussia, his brother appeared not in the least put off by it.

And as the stingy smell of gunpowder rose to their nostrils, he instructed, "No matter what happens, stay somewhere near me, try to look serious, and use that gun of yours on a _good cause_."

Ludwig was about to ask what exactly Prussia implied by wording it 'good cause', but was deterred from it by the alien glimmer that had abruptly crept into his brother's eyes. It took him an agonizing moment to realize it was _bloodlust_.

He gulped, but when Prussia's rammed his feet into his horse's flanks, goading it to a gallop to limberly break through the last instance of soldiers separating them from the actual battlefield, Ludwig saw no other option but to imitate him. Maybe he had read too much into it, anyway.

Any coherent consideration was expunged when a bullet rebounded directly in front of him, sending mud and dust up into the air, making Ludwig cough savagely while clutching at the reins to keep his now antsy horse under control. Another gun being fired was the sound that succeeded the previous one almost immediately, bringing with it a muffled shriek and the dull thunk of a body hitting the ground. Wiping at his eyes, Ludwig finally detected Prussia again, who stared at him through the dust and swiftly commenced grinning like a madman.

Ludwig didn't see the man his brother had just killed even when he rode past the slumped form of him, probably due to the fact that he did his best to keep his eyes fixed to what lay straight ahead.

The minutes that followed all but made up for it.

Prussia fought along with his and Saxony's soldiers in a way that left Ludwig open mouthed, gaping from astride his horse and feeling for his gun in the holster in which he had carefully stashed it away, but not actually doing anything. He just watched, watched as his brother broke into houses, put up fights with daring village boys and stabbed one or two foolish French soldiers that got to near the knife he had produced from somewhere, before swinging himself back onto his horse and joining a particularly vile street fight. Barrels were rolled their way, carts were overturned, blood soon splattered across the street, but no matter what, Prussia always emerged from the turmoil with a triumphant sneer on his face.

Despite the aversion it should cause him, Ludwig could not help feeling…_proud_.

When Prussia turned into an alleyway, cackling almost manically, Ludwig followed suit, without hesitation this time. Their surroundings were pretty much abandoned, compared to the street they had just left, and obviously, Prussia wanted to make use of the passage only to weave his way through to the actual fights again.

From that point on, everything happened rapidly, _too quickly_ for Ludwig to comprehend until it was over, and realization settled in, in the form of an imaginary, yet no less devastating lump in the pit of his stomach.

Prussia should have seen the way the soldier aimed at him out of narrow lane to their left, semi-hidden in the shadows, gun held steady.

He should have realized it was aimed directly at his heart, should have, _could have_ dodged the shot, should have retaliated by shooting the soldier himself, making use of his inhuman reflexes-

-but alas, he had been grinning at Ludwig.

Had been grinning at Ludwig when the bullet hit him, slicing open his uniform jacket as if it was but thin paper. Blood soaked blue fabric as Prussia was catapulted backwards by the impact, lifeless, limbs going slack, rifle falling from his grip.

The soldier stared for a moment, then lowered his weapon and ran, apparently not expecting his victim to survive.

Ludwig screamed.

Prussia's head roughly connected with the cobblestones.

And momentarily, the world seemed to crumble to pieces.

Prussia's horse reared, taking one, two steps backwards in its panic, forelegs kicking, until, with a disgusting, crunching sound, one hoof came down on Prussia's shin.

Ironically, it was everything needed to free Ludwig from his frozen state of mind.

Prussia's horse sprang forwards, panicky, neighing almost despairingly before breaking into a rapid gallop, suddenly stricken with the kind of fear only animalistic instincts could enforce.

The first thing _Ludwig_ did, and he did not know why, and it was not his instinct that told him to but rather his mind, was to draw his gun, checking it was clear to fire and desperately try to focus on the fleeing soldier responsible for all of this.

When he saw his retreating form at the end of the alleyway, trying to round the next corner before being spotted, he hastily pulled the trigger, trying not to think, not to hesitate. He wasn't even aware of how this was the first time he was about to fire a gun in a situation where it truly mattered.

Lacking both experience and the concentration needed, the shot was much wonkier than he had intended, and instead of mowing down its supposed aim, all it did was splinter an abandoned window, the shards raining down onto the street. Nonetheless, Ludwig's arm was flung back by the recoil.

He hissed in disappointment when the Frenchman disappeared from sight.

The burst of adrenaline he had acted on evaporated.

And then, it all came back to him.

_Prussia._

"Oh Gott, _Gilbert_!"

He had planned to dismount his horse as quickly and gracefully as possible, _efficiently_, but instead, his foot got caught in the stirrup, and he stumbled, almost toppling over. Panic was rushing through him, and it took long, _too long_, for the precaution of checking the street for the possible presence of an enemy to cross his mind. When it did, he yanked up his head, eyes widening with anxiety. Luckily, there were only Prussians around from what he could see, some of which were sending him looks of sympathy from the main street, but most simply staring in another direction, readily accepting the obvious death of another one of their own.

The width of the alley seemed to stretch into eternity, and when he finally reached the motionless body that was his brother, Ludwig felt a distinct itching at the back of his throat, a quiver spreading through his body, the first hints of the first sobs threatening to tear his countenance in two.

When he slumped down next to Prussia, knees roughly thudding on stone, he knew there was no sense in trying to hold back.

He was young.

He was weak.

And he wept.

The words that eventually tumbled out in between bitten back sobs were probably understandable for him only, violently blurred as they were.

"_Bruder!_ Say something, just- Gilbert, Gilbert come on, don't-! Don't-"

_Don't die._

He didn't even want to think of it.

With shaky hands, he attempted to roll Prussia over onto his back, hastily trying to feel for a pulse, ignoring the dark patch spreading on the elder's coat. He had been explained the procedure of this once, there had to be a possibility-

"Ludwig?"

For the fragment of a moment, he almost forgot how to _breathe_.

"G-Gilbert…? You're…you-"

A breathy chuckle he only caught as he was straining to hear was released into the air between them.

"Not dead? Nah, not quite."

Contradicting his words, Prussia's eyes were nearly closed, a deep cut now marring his left cheek. Ludwig wasn't sure in the least whether he was actually able to make out anything or if his world had already faded to black. It was a simple, yet frightening thought as that that had him breaking down again, crying against the fabric of Prussia's uniform.

He had never truly cried before. Not often, never like this.

But now, sucking in the unsettling smell of blood, dirt, _suffering_, everything proved to be too much for him to handle. Prussia was hurt, and in one way or another, it was his fault.

"I don't want you to-to-"

"Shhh. Ludwig, _Kaiserreich_, I w-won't…I won't die."

Prussia's sharp intake of breath should not have caused the savage cough it did, forcing him into a more upright position, in which he remained, hunched over the cobbles, retching and gasping for air.

"Oh, _verdammt_…"

Ludwig winced, but rushed to his brother's side as his sense of responsibility told him to do, while Prussia proceeded to cough up blood, the specks of it soon littering the ground. His eyes went blurry before focusing again, and he lifted a shaky hand, patting across the front of his uniform until he found the spot the bullet had penetrated.

To Ludwig's absolute horror, the next thing he did was nonchalantly sticking a finger in.

Prussia flinched is discomfort as he commenced to widen the wound, in obvious search for something, but maintained a surprising amount of control throughout the procedure.

Moments later, his finger immerged again with a repulsive, slick little noise, taking the smeared bullet with it. Ludwig nearly whimpered at the vileness of it all.

Prussia picked up the small object with an unsteady hand, pinching it between thumb and index finger and holding it up for the younger to see, demonstrating what he was about to refer to.

"Always such a hassle when these little bastards end up ingrown" he said in a tiny, raspy voice, forcing a grin onto his face. A trickle of blood ran down his chin from the right corner of his mouth.

Ludwig blinked disgustedly, comforted nonetheless by the display of casualness his brother was putting on. It did not last long, though.

Another coughing fit took hold of Prussia, and this time, it ended in him not hunching forwards, but falling backwards, slamming down onto the ground. He lay there, breathing unevenly, hands convulsing, and Ludwig suddenly remembered the bullet had not been the only cause of his brother's pain.

"Gilbert, I'm going to try to- _Bruder_?" He attempted to get his brother to look at him, but as he bent forward to search for the other's gaze, all he saw were half-closed eyelids that appeared to hold no vestige of life beneath them, hadn't it been for their restive flutter.

Panicking, Ludwig realized his brother must have fallen unconscious again.

Before he got to tend to any of the other injuries, the fresh gush of blood seeping from the gunshot wound kept him from even looking at the probably smashed shin Prussia also had to be sporting. Fresh tears began to prick at the corners of Ludwig's eyes, and slowly, it sunk in that he _did not know what to do._

Trying to quell the bloodstream, but how, _how-_

He glanced around, though hazy eyes, in the diminutive hope of one of the soldiers being able to help them, but the front had already shifted again, and they had been left behind. Ludwig felt despondency welling up, and all he could do was clutch at Prussia's uniform, trying to adjust it so as to serve as a makeshift bandage, covering the wound.

When it didn't work, Ludwig's thoughts met a dead end. Color proceeded to fade from Prussia's face, and he looked so pale, paler than ever and-

It was hopeless.

Ludwig could do nothing, _nothing_ but squeeze his eyes shut, sniveling.

He didn't hear the nearing footsteps, and neither did he catch the soft sound of a man clearing his throat and stopping in his tracks behind him. When Ludwig pivoted, it was on instinct rather than a conscious realization.

Equally blue eyes met his, and for an unbearably long moment of shock, time seemed to slow down, before speeding up again and turning the dull state of his senses into one of immediate alert.

The next thing Ludwig knew after he had leapt to his feet was that he had the muzzle of his gun pressed to the blond Frenchman's temple in a matter of seconds.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

_**Translations: **_

_Bruderherz_ - term of endearment for 'brother', old-fashioned and used ironically here  
_Sachsen_ - Saxony

_**Historical Notes: **_

_From the very beginning on, the undertaking of encircling the French near Sedan was a matter of luck, as it was not clear until mere days before the actual battle whether they were actually heading for Metz, and not for Paris. Had the latter been the case, the outcome of the war itself might have been entirely different._

_In the end, however, all worked out for the Germans, and they were able to defeat the (resting and exhausted) French army first at Beaumont, the battle after which they withdrew to Sedan – the Germans, organized by Helmuth von Moltke, followed them, and managed to encircle them within the next day._

_The Battle of Bazeilles was fought on September 1 (as part of the Battle of Sedan), and was an ambush of German (mostly Bavarian) troops taking place in the village of Bazeilles. Resulted in some bloody scenes and almost the whole village being destroyed - the Bavarians succeeded in the end (thanks to not exactly fighting fair; making use of arson etc.), but both sides suffered major casualties._

_Something random – needle-fired guns were the weapons that made the Prussians quite as superior in 1866, fighting against Austria. A few years later, the version of it used by them had already become obsolete, outshone by the newly developed French one, but was still deployed in the war of 1870. No idea if it was ever used in combination with a bayonet, but let's just pretend so._

_Spiked helmets were probably one of the more ridiculous uniform elements of the 19th and early 20th century, but I can't help thinking that Gilbert could have made them look sexy. ;D_


	3. Of Solution

_Gah, couldn't update for days, but now I finally found out how to avoid that damn error. Google is my friend, hehe xD Anyway, thanks for the reviews, faves... :) And finally-_

_...last chapter! A big thanks goes to the awesome friend who helped me with the French - I would've been lost without you! Prepare for lots of translations in the notes...but keeping it obscure as this rather than putting them in directly was necessary to keep up the POV, so bear with me here (still wishing I knew French myself, but meh). _

* * *

**3. Of Solution**

* * *

Ludwig froze, and while his mind screamed for him to move, _do something_, it felt like running against an invisible wall of growing panic he could not cross.

He stared, and the man, towering over him by about a head, merely mimicked him. It occurred to Ludwig then that surprisingly, the other didn't look scared in the least. In fact, while sapphire blue eyes had briefly focused on the gun being poised directly above, they had quickly settled on him again, full of curiosity, but not fear.

He did not look what he imagined an enemy to look like, either. Granted, Ludwig had seen a number of young, somewhat decent looking soldiers today, had seen them killed, but none of them had succeeded in destroying the clichéd image of a Frenchman he'd had in mind. Propaganda was a powerful means.

He shoved the issue to the back of his mind as quickly as possible. Strikingly handsome or not, this man obviously meant harm.

Ludwig took a deep breath. It wouldn't take much, a tug of his finger, and-

He wasn't given the time to act when the man simply nudged the weapon aside and pushed past him, primly kneeling down next to Prussia.

The realization of being ignored sunk in only slowly, but became an obvious fact soon enough.

_"Tu es tellement un imbécile, Gilbert."_

It had happened so quickly that Ludwig nearly forgot to respond, to do something, _anything_. It was hearing the soldier speak, speak to his brother while turning his back on him, Ludwig, that snapped him out of his state of shock.

_"H-Heh!"_ he yelled, taking a cautious step forward, "What do you think you're doing?"

No reaction, at least none to his words. The stranger leant over, almost as if to inspect Prussia's wounds. In fact, hadn't Ludwig known better than to believe in a digressiveness as that, he would have found there was something _caring_ to the Frenchman's movements as he adjusted his brother's arm so as to lie comfortably, lowered his head, presumably to listen for a heartbeat, or faint intakes of breath.

Curtly, Ludwig was surprised at the thought of such intentions, and struggled with an explanation until one that actually sounded plausible finally formed in his mind - was it because the other needed to know whether he still had to finish the Prussian off for good?

Yes, _yes_, that had to be it.

At that, a new gush of hatred soared through Ludwig as he lunged out, pulling the Frenchman back by the blue fabric of his uniform.

"Don't touch him!"

It was the surprise effect and nothing else that made it even possible for him to stand up against someone who was probably a trained soldier, yanking the man backwards and finally getting him to look at him, _fear him_. With the Frenchman's crouched position, Ludwig now towered above him, lifted his gun again -

His finger tapped around, searching for the trigger, eventually curling around it –

Two pairs of blue eyes widening –

_Nothing, save for a soft click._

Ludwig pulled the trigger, again, and again, until realization, as shattering and alarming as can be, finally settled.

A single shot. _Only one._ And he had already wasted as much.

_"Nein- nein nein nein…"_

In a burst of despair, he threw the useless gun aside. It landed on the cobblestones with a hollow _clonk_ accompanying the impact. After that, there was only waiting.

Waiting for something to happen.

It wasn't until now that he cared to truly look at the man that would possibly take his life away in a few moments, trained to be able to do so even without a weapon. There was no reason for the Frenchman not to kill him, and Ludwig did not admit himself to illusions for a second.

Abruptly, a larger, calloused hand clasped around his wrist, but, already having given in to his fate, Ludwig made no resistance.

The man's eyes were an extraordinary shade of sapphire, within a face that was unmistakably of what one would call sculpted features, handsome even as dirty and marred. His hair was longer than what suited the norm, and he wore no helmet, had probably lost it sometime during the day, like so many others – yet, he had made it through, without a rifle, without a helmet. Ludwig was stunned, through all the hatred he was subliminally experiencing, not knowing whether there were any rational reasons behind it.

Probably not –

_"Allemagne?"_

Surprised at first, it eventually occurred to Ludwig that he knew that word. _He knew it._ And yet he could not put his finger on it, could only stare on dumbly, wondering what the other was insinuating. There had to be a reason, a reason to explain why their encounter had not followed the simple guide line for enemies meeting so far, had elided the principle of _shoot, kill, and move on._

_"Was?"_

Was it because he was so young, and had happened upon a man actually appreciating morals - ?

A quiet sigh, a simple gesture - the stranger pointing a finger at himself - and the word uttered with it explained it all.

_"Frankreich."_

A statement that could be misread, could hint at something entirely else, had Ludwig not been whom the other suspected him to be. Yet he was.

Fragments of a theory that had not quite seemed believable fell into place, and Ludwig realized how blind he had been, eyes widening in sudden understanding.

_France._

It was an uncanny revelation, even though it did not change his predicament in the slightest, but even validated what he had already thought of as consolidated – just that now, they were equals, in several ways.

Hastily, shocked as he was, Ludwig tried to recall anything Prussia had ever told him about the other nation, _the nation they were currently at war with_, even though it had never been much to begin with.

_Devoted member of nobility._

_Rarely ever as devoted a soldier._

That was it. Just like that, Ludwig suddenly felt he was superior, if not in age, in knowledge, then in _persistence_ about this. Suddenly there seemed to be a chance for him – _them_, him and his brother – to get out of this alive.

"Get away from him! Get away from _here_!" he snarled, emphasizing the words of which he didn't know if France understood them at all with a succession of snatchy gestures, directed at his brother's unmoving body lying a mere meter from them.

A disbelieving expression was the answer he received. France got to his feet, attempting an explanation but stopping midsentence when the pointlessness of it occurred to him. He shrugged almost helplessly.

But as though Ludwig's subconsciousness had actually got the message, after all, another fact about his opponent came to mind.

_Truth to be told, he's not…a bad person himself._

What he had brushed off as marginal back then was what eventually induced his change in attitude, imagining the sentence spoken inside his head as vibrant and true-to-life as though Prussia was standing next to him.

And all of a sudden, they were no longer enemies facing each other off in battle.  
Through all the animosity Ludwig still felt, he felt above all that they were but bystanders, in one way or another, had met by an odd twist of fate rather than personal ambitions.

Along with it, he noticed suddenly that France did not look healthy at all, exertion and worry clearly visible to anyone who looked closely enough.

What he also noticed was that he, Ludwig, needed his help.

Something passed between them that was not quite mutual understanding, but came close enough to it for both of them to relax visibly.

France gestured towards Prussia, obviously deep in thought over how to bring across his intentions. Ludwig cocked his head, clueless, until France sighed and primly hoisted Prussia up, weakened state making him struggle with holding the other upwards.

And Ludwig understood.

"I'll be back in a minute!" he yelled, almost as if to reassure himself, rather than the older nation.

He didn't know how he could even muster the courage needed to round one street corner after another, swiveling to take a look at every niche, ignoring the occasional soldiers and barricades he ran past. However, and even though he had not gone that far, hope was slowly diminishing, and only seconds before giving up on his search did his eyes make out the familiar silhouette of his horse, standing perfectly still at the edge of the street. As though having sensed it was still needed, it had not actually fled, leaving the village.

He suppressed the urge to cheer, and settled for a sigh, relieved beyond measure, and approached the mare.

Swiftly having straightened the harness and saddle, with a newfound focus he'd acquired solely by having something to occupy his mind with again, he mounted the horse and urged it onwards, backtracking the way he'd taken.

France hadn't moved far from where he'd left him, but had placed Prussia on the ground again, seemingly tending some of his wounds now. From what Ludwig could see, a deep cut had engrailed itself into his brother's forearm, and he was shocked to see he'd overlooked something as that. Almost embarrassed, he slid out of the saddle, feet clumsily landing on the ground with a heavy _thud_, and crouched down next to France. The older man was currently in the midst of cleaning the wound as deliberately as possible, before bandaging it with a shredded piece of blue cloth Ludwig recognized as part of his uniform. As if to affirm his suspicions, the next thing he noticed was that one sleeve of France's uniform had, in fact, partly been ripped off.

France didn't look up just once, until he was done with his task. Then, he threw Ludwig a quick glance, mentioning for him to help him lift Prussia onto the horse.

They snuck out of town almost secretly, with anyone who might have had the chance to notice them being far too distracted to pay attention to the odd group of three passing them.

Ludwig hadn't thought he'd actually end up feeling sorry France, but here he was. It wasn't that the older nation tried to let it on, but there were moments when he had to lean against whatever wall was near, taking a shuddering breath as though restricted by wounds himself and looking up, seemingly asking, _What next?_

Seconds after, however, he was always back to normal again, walking on as though nothing had happened. Even though he did it surreptitiously enough, Ludwig at times caught him staring at him. Maybe, after all, France was just as confused about their current situation as he was, temporarily allied for nothing but the purpose of helping the same person.

Prussia had yet to wake up, even as softly shaken back and forth in his slumped, knocked out position on the horse. A simple string of blood and saliva dribbled from his slightly agape mouth, and while Ludwig was still in the process of raising his hand France had already wiped the bit of drool off, whisking his thumb clean on his already ruined uniform afterwards.

It was ironic, seeing how it was a simple, yet nearly tender gesture such as this that made Ludwig realize the obvious.

_Friends. His brother and France were friends. Or had been, at some point._

He was still unable to think of anything but when not much later, France gestured for him him to stop in front of a lone house, astray from the actual village and hidden behind a row of trees, surrounded by untouched nature that planted the wish in Ludwig to throw himself into the grass, stay there and block out anything else.

It had been a long day.

France suavely knocked on the door. Moments later, it was opened by a middle-aged woman with light brown hair kept in a lose braid, dressed in a bleached gown that might have been blue in the past, but had taken on a grayish tone over the years. Her fingers were knotty from days spent outside, working hard, but a relieved smile spread on her face upon seeing France.

_"Monsieur Bonnefoy!"_ she cried out, throwing her thin, veiny arms around him and pulling him into a hug, to which France responded by chuckling quietly and kissing her on both cheeks before turning back to Ludwig, who had watched the scene with the distinct feeling of intruding into a moment not meant for him to witness.

He was sure he and his brother were just about the last people the woman wanted to encounter right now, and asked himself why exactly France had decided to lead him here.

Had it been a trap after all-

_"C'est... un distant membre de la famille de moi. Son frère est blessé, et il a besoin quelque part pour se reposer."_ The sentence uttered quietly, almost humbly by France brought him back to reality, and he strained to read something out of it, no matter how trivial.

The woman furrowed her brow, questioning, as she took a step forward to muster first Ludwig and then Prussia, frowning a little at the lack of bandages and the dried blood before taking notice of something else, as it seemed to Ludwig.

_"Mais- mais- il est un de ces- ces_ Prusses_!"_

France smiled sadly.

_"Il est pourtant un ami."_– his expression turned into something almost _pleading_ – _"Il ne mourra pas, il a simplement besoin de se reposer. S'il vous plaît, c'est tout que je demande-"_

The woman gave a defeated smile. _"Je vous revaux après que tout que vous avez fait pour nous. J'espérais que la faveure que vous me demanderiez serais quelque chose d'autre, mais- je crois que c'est le moins que je peux faire."_

_"Merci"_, France said softly.

Ludwig could only guess what the conversation had been about. When France began to pull Prussia off the horse, though, managing to hold him upwards only just so, Ludwig realized the other must have achieved what he wanted and hurried to his side to help him prop up his brother.

Prussia mumbled in his unconsciousness, head lolling from one side to the other. Still, he showed no sign of awakening. It worried Ludwig, but the feeling was controllable, now that he was no longer alone. France gave him a curt glance, nodding.

Inside, the cottage was dark and musty, but provided the homely atmosphere Ludwig realized he'd missed throughout his days spent alone, in houses that had never been more to him than temporary abodes. They half carried, half dragged Prussia through the room, briefly coming to a halt in front of a door France opened unerringly.

Letting his curiosity get the better of him, Ludwig left his brother's side to catch a glimpse of the room before France could, face falling when he saw there was nothing special about it at all – a simple, oblong room furnished with a chair, a provisory bed, a stool, light streaming in through a small window. What exactly had he expected, anyway? Great luxury to repay them for what they'd lived through, to make Prussia better again in an instant? It would do. It was more than he could have asked for.

France carefully laid Prussia down on the mattress, before allowing himself to slump down on the edge of it as well, rubbing his forehead in obvious exhaustion. Out of nowhere, a cut had sliced across his palm, and he stared at it numbly before nonchalantly wiping his hand clean on his battered uniform. Ludwig winced, but it was more due to the coldness with which the gesture was carried out than the overall situation, namely France suffering from the effects of a battle that had just entered the process of coming to an end.

As it was, he had not quite managed to wrap his mind around the concept of it so far.

Minutes passed in which neither of them said a word, minutes of silent observing and musing on the future. And eventually-

_"Danke."_

Ludwig averted his gaze. A single word, which had yet cost him so much to utter. And France only nodded, remaining silent. Uneasiness refused to fade between them, for there was nothing to say, _no way to do so_, and soon, the older nation sighed, standing up and walking over to the door. _To escape_, Ludwig nearly assumed. It was what he would have done.

Unexpectedly, France's absence made him feel solitary – now, he was just a boy again, stranded in an unknown place. In the dim light, he traced the outline of Prussia's body, the uneven heaving of his chest and the occasional fidgeting, indicating a bad dream the other was probably having.

Hesitantly, he made his way over to the bed. His brother looked weak like this, he thought, weak and vulnerable, so unlike himself it was almost painful to look at him. Carefully, he freed the other of his uniform jacket, wincing at the large patch of red on the shirt underneath. However, the blood had already dried, and Ludwig wondered what exactly had enabled this quite as quickly, before dismissing the consideration and letting it be replaced by pure relief.

He smiled a little, and suddenly, fatigue overwhelmed him.

He lay down next to Prussia, breathing in the dusty smell of the straw-filled mattress, and cautiously stretching out one hand to place it on his brother's arm, just to feel the warmth of his skin, make sure he was still with him, _alive. _

For now, it was all he felt comfortable with.

Soon, however, he threw caution to the wind and instinctively inched closer to the other body, until the gap between them was closed entirely. Ludwig wrapped his arms around his brother's passed out form, already half-asleep himself, and sighed deeply.

It did not take long after that for sleep to overpower him entirely.

He didn't notice France returning, leaning against the wall and watching them, in silent wonder, before starkly taking his leave, closing the door as quietly as possible and engaging in a short conversation with one of the occupants of the house before muffled voices died down and the front door, too, fell shut.

He did not notice the young girl entering the back room with a bowl of steaming soup held in between her hands, but not starting an attempt to wake him as she noticed he was still sound asleep.

And he didn't notice how Prussia's heartbeat steadied again, wounds healing at a rapid pace, either.

* * *

Even when Prussia finally awoke, Ludwig didn't notice. Maybe it was from the exhaustion, the unexpected _comfort_ it provided to lie next to his brother, cuddle up against him and subconsciously relish the familiar smell of his clothes that his perception was running on a low level, blending out all movements that did not seem alarming. When Prussia stirred, ever so slightly, he did nothing except for mumbling something incomprehensible, long since having dozed off.

And as it was, Prussia did not say anything for a long time, either, merely cradling Ludwig against his side with a tired gesture that almost, _almost_ succeeded in waking the younger.

Sunlight slowly seeped in, lightly illuminating the tiny gaps left in the thatched roof, and once again, nature refused to go in accord with the events that had taken place here hours before, and resorted to its usual, independent demeanor again.

_As though we're just minor details within a giant plan_, Ludwig would have thought, had he actually been in the state to _think_.

Instead, they lay like that for a while, until both started to get uncomfortable on the itchy mattress, and Prussia pulled out a straw that had stuck to his side, chuckling.

"We're living in luxury now, aren't we, _Kleiner_?"

Ludwig hummed in agreement, the sarcasm utterly lost on him, as well as the fact that his brother had just spoken to him. It was the subsequent, "Anyway, good morning, Ludwig" that made him wake up for real, with the tiniest of yelps.

"Gilbert! Gilbert, you're-"

"Told you it would take more than a bullet to finish me off" Prussia said amusedly, seeming somewhat tired still, but _alright_ nonetheless. Ludwig sucked in a relieved breath.

"You're okay…"

And then he did something that contradicted the collected, _disciplined_ personality he had always intended for himself, making apparent its tentativeness just as the previous day. He hugged Prussia tightly.

"I'm glad."

The statement sounded much too formal, but it did its purpose justice. Prussia stiffened at first, caught by utter surprise, but hesitantly reciprocated the gesture.

"You didn't honestly believe I would die, did you?"

Ludwig stared at the empty wall over Prussia's shoulder, tensing. Yes, he had believed so. Now, however, as time had gone on, and here they were, both fine after all, it almost seemed laughable. What kind of answer was he to give, then?

"I-"

He could practically _feel_ Prussia smiling as his brother released him, holding him at an arm's length, as though he was about to say something, truly consolidating the moment that covertly been conjured between them.

"Who knows, _one day_ I may die for the greater good, but it won't be due to something…as this, and I'd much rather state that-"

Suddenly, his gaze fell upon the tattered piece of blue cloth wrapped around his forearm, now partly stained with coagulated blood.

"What…?"

He tapped at it, slowly taking it off. Ludwig's breath hitched as he realized the deep cut that was supposed to mar the skin underneath it had vanished entirely over night. The smallest hint of realization flashed up in Prussia's eyes as he recognized the origin of the rag. Not only _realization_, Ludwig thought. _Hope._

"Where did you get this, Ludwig?"

To say Ludwig had planned to lie would have been nothing but that itself – a lie - but saying he had wanted to tell the truth would have had its flaws, too. His will to do so had faded the moment he had caught a glimpse of the unforeseen emotion it would cause his brother.

"Found it. Must've been ripped off a uniform at some point."

He was taken off-guard by his own words for a second, and immediately tried to salve his conscience – Prussia would probably never find out what had really happened, and presumably, it was better like that. It felt scary, though, having spoken without thinking, acting upon an inner impulse that did not go well with a just point of view. Ludwig nervously studied his brother's expression as he looked up from the piece of cloth to muster him.

"And you were the one to bring us here?"

"…yes?"

"Hmm. Well done, Ludwig."

And that was when it occurred to him that Prussia knew exactly he had lied, had read it in his eyes as though his mind was an open book. Prussia looked at him thoughtfully, and then his mouth broadened into a wistful smile of sorts. Ludwig, however, took it for a sign of acquiescence.

Relieved, he let his shoulders slump, letting his gaze wander. It came to rest on the door, just as it was opened. It was the woman France had persuaded into giving them shelter yesterday. She looked even more worn out than before, with bags under her eyes and her hair stringy and flat. However, in her hands she held a tray with two bowls balanced on it, expression momentarily being overrode by surprise as she noticed Prussia sitting upright in his bed, mimicking the emotion written all over her face.

She winced visibly at the intensity of his red eyes, but quickly regained composure.

_"Ça devra servir comme un petit-déjeuner. Je n'ai pas beaucoup, mais votre ami me disait d'assurer que tout allait bien pour vous"_ she then said to him, obviously in the minuscule hope of him being cultivated enough to understand her language, albeit Prussian.

Ludwig expected Prussia to rudely mutter a few words in German, basically dismissing her, but what his brother did instead didn't even remotely resemble his speculations.

_"Je ne sais pas comment de vous remercier, Madame. Si mon... _ami_ revient, relaissez lui aussi ma gratitude, s'il vous plait"_ he responded in fluent French.

Though he truly wasn't one to judge, it sounded downright perfect to Ludwig. No matter how unexpected, what his brother had said – he could only guess – had held something flowing, unhesitating, Prussia's voice resorting to a softness he never expressed when speaking German.

Ludwig wasn't the only one left baffled, it seemed.

The woman's eyes widened, then narrowed in pleasant surprise as she set down the tray on the stool next to the mattress. The bowls were filled with what seemed to be a thin soup with sparse vegetables floating in it, left over from the last dinner, probably. Unusual for a breakfast as it was, Ludwig felt his mouth water at the sight of it, shock forgotten immediately as he reached out for one of the bowls, slurping the soup as though he had not eaten in months.

_"Votre frère est un bon garcon"_ the woman commented, giving Prussia a fatigued smile, _"Il ne vous quitterait pas, même pas pour manger."_

It bordered on a miracle, the change her behavior had gone through upon the small revelation of her 'guest' knowing French. While she did not exactly seem to deem them trustworthy yet, at least she had lapsed into a friendly kind of conversation, obviously contrary to her former intentions.

Prussia briefly glanced at Ludwig, their eyes meeting. Although the younger brother did not understand a word, he did not mind for now, focusing on his meal again in an instant.

_"Je sais"_ Prussia answered, taking the bowl the woman handed him and beginning to scoop diced vegetables into his mouth with a content expression.

The woman appeared as though she wanted to add something else, but apparently decided against it and turned to leave the room, tray held against her side with one arm.

_"Partez le plus tôt possible. J'ai déjà fais plus que je permettrais normalement."_

Ludwig glanced up as the door fell shut behind her, and understood, without _understanding_ in the original sense of it, that she'd lost close to everything, had given them shelter on nothing but the sole persuading France had done, taken them in not out of affection but to do the man she was affiliated to in one way or another a favor.

Seeing that they were already stressing her goodwill was easy after that.

They set the empty dishes aside as soon as they'd finished eating. As they worked in silence to gather their belongings, little of which were actually left, and reestablished the previous state of the room, Ludwig realized Prussia did not once complain about pain yet to vanish, did not once raise a hand to clutch at his wounds, did not buckle even in the slightest due to his demolished leg.

In fact, he seemed to be perfectly fine again.

Before he had the chance to inquire it, though, Prussia had donned his tattered uniform again, ready to leave the room. For the moment, all Ludwig allowed himself to feel was relief.

The woman followed them outside from where she stood in the kitchen they walked through, and as she took position next to the front door the girl emerged from inside the house, too, hiding a little behind her mother.

Eventually, she dared to take a look, then shyly took a step forward, pointing to the wooden stable attached to the house.

_"Vous pouvez avoir le cheval, si vous n'allez pas trop loin. __Il toujours retrouve son chemin vers nous"_ she shakily said to Prussia, then turned to Ludwig. _"Votre est dans l'étable aussi - il est nourri et il s'est reposé, et j'ai m'occupé avec lui de sort que le voyage ne le fatiguera pas, oh, et j'ai nettoyé à fond une fois avant que vous arriviez, donc tout était propre et-"_

Her eyes had grown wide as she spoke, one foot nervously scraping patterns into the sand, blush rising to her cheeks as she noticed Ludwig looking straight at her, not understanding a word. He raised his eyebrows at her odd behavior, confused as to what had triggered it. It couldn't solely be due to his uniform, marking him an enemy-

Prussia barely managed to contain his laughter as the woman hastily put a hand over her daughter's mouth to stem what had culminated in a rant.

_"Vous l'entendiez."_

Ludwig followed Prussia over to the stable, where he found his horse, calm again, standing next to another mare of a much lankier build, with scruffy fur. Prussia sighed as he looked at the animal, scratching his forehead in eventual resignation.

"That's the horse your little girlfriend was talking about, it seems."

Ludwig did not have a clue what Prussia was referring to, but merely shrugged, beginning to saddle his horse, while Prussia applied harness to the other one, sour look never leaving his face.

Once they were done, they led the horses outside, blinking in the bright morning sun after having become used to the dim light inside the stable.

Ludwig reminded himself of smiling, instead of actually muttering words of farewell no one but Prussia would've understood, giving the woman and her daughter one last look before he and his brother departed from the house, intending to walk for a while before truly commencing their way to catch up with the army.

Their parting had gone without emotions implied. They did not know a thing about each other, after all, and the only evidence of acknowledgement exchanged had been prim nods, vacuous in a way.

An hour, give or take, went by, in which Ludwig relished feeling, or at least knowing of the soil beneath the soles of his shoes, walking at a slow pace that enabled him to take in their surroundings with the utmost attention. Whether that was something positive or not, though, he wasn't sure in the least.

He tried to keep his mimic serene even as they passed burnt down houses, with nothing but charred walls still standing amidst equally destroyed environment. It was hard to ignore, now that the battle was no longer raging on to distract them, and lone columns of smoke rose to the sky from still smoldering seats of fire. Fog and rays of sun clashed somewhere in between, and had someone asked, Ludwig wouldn't have been certain at all how to describe the overall atmosphere. All he knew was that it wasn't even rudimentary like the victorious feeling he had anticipated.

After all, from the looks of it, they had indeed won – just as Prussia had predicted.

What exactly they had achieved by it was still up for debate, but they would soon find out as they'd catch up with a witness, namely any member of the German army that had not been blocked from the course of events the way they had been. Or maybe Prussia had even asked the woman about it, in case of which he still had to tell Ludwig.

In the end, it scarcely mattered.

They stopped as they reached a patch of untouched plain amongst marred areas, akin to an oasis within a desert. Prussia gave a curt nod before mounting his horse, not seeming quite as haughty anymore, with a ripped uniform and a farm horse for a mount. Ludwig had to restrain himself from feeling the slightest bout of gratification at not being the humbler looking one of them for once.

"There's a great day lying before us" Prussia remarked, and it remained unclear whether he wanted Ludwig to answer or not.

Whatever the case, in retrospect, Ludwig would not be sure anymore what caused the hushed words he spoke, anyway.

Maybe, he thought of Prussia, Prussia lying on the ground, covered in blood. Reimagining his fear of something that was so unlikely to happen, and had yet seemed so vivid and real to him back then, in the haze of the moment.

Maybe he thought of one of the comparably innocent soldiers whose deaths he'd had to witness. Even though now, he could barely remember their faces.

Maybe, he thought of Bavaria, and Saxony, whom he barely knew and was still dependent on, in one way or another.

And _maybe_, he even thought of France.

In the end, however, all possible reasons became one unit, and before he'd as much as registered what he was about to say, his request tumbled out, unexpected as can be.

"After this is over…after I've become _Germany_ – when we achieved what we wanted-"

A pause.

Then-

"Let's never go to war again."

Silence.

Prussia stared, _stared_, and said nothing.

The next moment, he was guffawing.

For a second Ludwig nearly felt humiliated.  
But then, he brushed the feeling off, because - _of course_, Prussia was right. And even though Ludwig had been so sure of his own opinion only a minute previous, now, he felt like a fool. _And deservedly so_, he thought.

He awkwardly mounted his horse, before lifting his gaze again, hesitantly, willing to say anything to even relations between them again. He was startled when in Prussia's eyes there lay nothing but a taunting fondness after the laughter had ebbed.

Stillness stretched out between them.

In the end, it was a simple statement that broke the silence.

"Let's go."

Prussia turned to continue their journey.

And Ludwig followed.

* * *

_FIN_.

* * *

_**Translations:**_

Tu es tellement un imbécile. _- You're such an idiot._

C'est... un distant membre de la famille de moi. Son frère est blessé, et il a besoin quelque part pour se reposer. _- This is…a distinct relative of mine. His brother is hurt, and he needs somewhere to rest._

Mais- mais- il est un de ces- ces Prusses! _- But – but- he's one of these- these _Prussians!

Il est pourtant un ami. _- He's still a friend. _

Il ne mourra pas, il a simplement besoin de se reposer. S'il vous plaît, c'est tout que je demande- _- He won't die, he just needs to rest. Please, it's all I ask for-_

Je vous revaux après que tout que vous avez fait pour nous. J'espérais que la faveure que vous me demanderiez serais quelque chose d'autre, mais- je crois que c'est le moins que je peux faire. _- I owe you after what you did for us. I hoped the favor you'd ask for would be something else, but- I guess it's the least I can do._

Ça devra servir comme un petit-déjeuner. Je n'ai pas beaucoup, mais votre ami me disait d'assurer que tout allait bien pour vous. _- This will have to serve as a breakfast. I don't have much, but your friend told me to make sure you were alright._

Je ne sais pas comment de vous remercier, Madame. Si mon... ami revient, relaissez lui aussi ma gratitude, s'il vous plait. _- I don't know how to thank you, Ma'am. Should my…friend ever return, relay my gratitude to him, too, please. _

Votre frère est un bon garcon. _- Your brother is a good boy._

Il ne vous quitterait pas, même pas pour manger. _- He wouldn't leave your side, not even to eat._

Je sais. _- I know._

Partez le plus tôt possible. J'ai déjà fais plus que je permettrais normalement. - _Leave as soon as possible. I've already done more than I'd usually tolerate. _

Vous pouvez avoir le cheval, si vous n'allez pas trop loin. Il toujours retrouve son chemin vers nous._ - You can have our horse, if you don't go too far. It always finds its way back._

Votre est dans l'étable aussi - il est nourri et il s'est reposé, et j'ai m'occupé avec lui de sort que le voyage ne le fatiguera pas, oh, et j'ai nettoyé à fond une fois avant que vous arriviez, donc tout était propre et- _- Yours is in the stable, too – it's fed and rested and I cared for it so that the journey won't tire it out, oh, and I even mucked out once before you arrived, so everything was clean and-_

Vous l'entendiez. _- You heard her._

_**Notes**_**  
**  
_To put in at least a piffling amount of actual historical notes here – the battle ended with the eventual capture of Napoleon III, now temporarily leaving France without a sovereign. And that's it for this chapter._

_I never planned to give France such a huge part in this (honestly, all I wanted for him in the beginning was to appear briefly) – but somehow, as I kept writing, the whole BTT subplot kind of fell into place (though I never mentioned it, Spain actually played a role in the outbreak of the war, too), and here we are. Also I found the idea of France and Germany having their first encounter on a battlefield too fitting to turn down._

_The question remains whether Fran would've acted quite as benevolently if he'd known these two would continue making his life a misery for decades to come. Oh well._


End file.
